You are a thousand
mounds of snow
I am a long
street
I fear that
when the sun rises
We'll go our
separate ways
I watch the
butterfly fail to traverse the heavens
Anyone has
the right not to understand
(Last time:
We can only blame the swiftness of time)
You are a letter
I am the postman
The last pair
of feet
Trampling
through the dust
I've been
too busy delivering
Didn't have
time to tear it open
[And expose]
the perfect world inside
I misread the
hotel sign
I failed to
recognize the street I wanted to scour
I want to
keep the cold serving of take-out
How could
I just toss it anywhere?
It doesn't
have our guitar chords
But it does
have the harmony of our ending
Yellow leaves
fly far from our fate
In the end
we can only say goodbye